


Date with a Book(seller)

by iam93percentstardust



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Baker Tony Stark, Bookstore Cat Liho, Bookstore Owner Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Soft Bucky Barnes, but not from any of the main characters, soft tony stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22787059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: Bucky's not too sure about this whole Blind Date with a Book concept but hey, if it keeps bringing in customers like Tony, who is he to complain?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 44
Kudos: 544
Collections: MHEA Harlequin Hoopla Prompt Challenge 2020





	Date with a Book(seller)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [AU Yeah August](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20075317) by [Reioka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reioka/pseuds/Reioka). 



> It's my birthday! So as my birthday gift to all of you, you get soft boys :)
> 
> Many thanks to reioka for letting me use her work as inspiration (seriously, if you haven't already read it, you should go check it out now)

It begins, as they say, with a book.

Or rather, it begins with Natasha complaining loudly about a book. But it still has to do with a book so…it begins with a book. “I want to read this book,” she rages. “But _look_ at this cover!” She shoves the book under Bucky’s nose. Bucky, who has decent eyesight and has never needed glasses in the past, has to lean back to properly see the cover or risk going cross-eyed, which will cause no end of mocking from his two employees.

The cover _is_ a riotous mix of ugly yellows and clashing blues but that shouldn’t stop Nat from reading it.

“I don’t get it,” he comments and continues shelving the new merchandise.

“It’s ugly,” Nat hisses. “I can’t read this book without thinking about how awful the cover is. I can’t be _seen_ reading this book.”

“Well, that’s a little unfair, dontcha think?” Darcy pipes up. She’s seated behind the counter, reading a book of her own. Knowing her, it’s probably some sort of trashy romance novel—that or a deeply political treatise because Darcy has absolutely zero chill. It’s always one extreme or the other with her.

Nat waves the book at her. Darcy peers at it for a second and then winces. “Okay yeah,” she agrees. “That’s pretty bad.”

Bucky still doesn’t see the problem with it but then again, he probably wouldn’t have become a bookseller if he couldn’t get over the truly terrible book covers out there.

“There needs to be a way for me to walk into a bookstore and say, ‘I’m looking for this kind of book’ and have it given to me with a perfect cover and a great synopsis,” Natasha says thoughtfully.

“I’ll give you the great synopsis part,” Bucky says, moving onto the next shelf. He winces at the latest romance novel to come out of Harlequin but puts it up anyway.

Darcy hops off the stool behind the counter and walks over to join them. “What’s wrong with the synopses?” she asks. Bucky’s not terribly surprised she doesn’t know, as most of what she reads thrives off of synopses.

“Every time,” Natasha begins mournfully. “Every time there’s a book with potential, they ruin it by littering the back cover with reviews.”

Bucky nods his agreement. “Not a hint of what the book’s about, just reviews from the same five authors—”

“—and publishing houses—”

“—and publishing houses about the masterpiece this book will be and how it’ll top the New York Times Bestseller list for weeks,” Bucky finishes.

“A moment of silence then,” Darcy proposes. “For all the great books that languish without a summary.”

There’s a moment’s pause as they all give that statement the gravitas it deserves. Then Bucky returns to his shelving and Nat downs the rest of her soda in one go before belching loudly. Darcy giggles, which sets off Nat, which eventually sets off a reluctant Bucky into a round of laughter that ends with them all on the floor, the latest new releases strewn about the plush carpet around them.

“It’s a miracle we ever get any customers,” Bucky says.

Nat shrugs. “If you cannot laugh with your books, where then?” She tips the can back into her mouth to catch the last couple of drops and then flattens the cans between her hands. Darcy lets out an aborted whimper. Bucky doesn’t blame her. He doesn’t know what Nat did before she came to One More Page but it must have been something impressive because she has the craziest skills. Bucky’s caught her dancing around the store on pointe before. She’s stopped a would-be robber with her thighs. And now, it appears she can crush a soda can in her bare hands.

“Anyway,” Nat continues as though the conversation had never derailed. “Something to give me the perfect book. Even better if I don’t know what it is or who wrote it.”

“There’s already something like that,” Bucky says, picking up the scattered books. Darcy hands him one and he thanks her with a nod. “That one website. You know.”

Darcy snorts, “That one website. Thanks, that’s really helpful. Nat’s not talking about What Should I Read Next, are you? She’s talking about Blind Date with a Book.”

Bucky frowns. Nat frowns. Probably the whole world frowns.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It’s really cool,” Darcy gushes. “You take a book and you wrap it in brown paper and you write little clues on it about what the book is about without actually giving anything away. There’s a website where they write things like _inherited_ or _shifting sands_ or _YA_. And there’s a couple other bookstores that do stuff more like ‘if you liked these three books, you’ll like this one.’ But the whole point is that you don’t know what the book is when you buy it.”

“Sounds perfect,” Nat says enthusiastically.

“Sounds like a lot of refunds,” Bucky says doubtfully.

Nat waves him off. “Just say you won’t offer refunds if they don’t like it.”

“And _that_ sounds like a good way to lose customers.”

“Nuh-uh,” Darcy argues. “People like coming here. They like the environment and they like the café and they especially like you, Mr. Muscles.” She pokes Bucky in the—admittedly huge—bicep.

“This is a terrible idea,” Bucky protests.

Nat shakes her head. “It’s a great one. You’ll see. But—” She holds up a finger to forestall Bucky’s next argument. “But, if it’ll make you feel better, how about Darcy and I take credit for the idea for the first couple of days?”

Bucky looks between the two. They do seem _very_ excited about the whole thing… And it’s not like they’ll be hurting anyone… And he _had_ overheard that customer the other day complaining about how the store needed to shake it up a little bit… And maybe growing up with Steve has given him a bit of a rebellious streak.

“Fine,” he says eventually. “But the first sign it’s not working out, I’m taking it down.”

* * *

Even Bucky has to admit that the response he’s gotten out of Blind Date with a Book isn’t what he’d been expecting.

The display is absolutely gorgeous—Steve had done some great artwork for the sign and Nat had used her beautiful calligraphy skills to write out the hints on each book—and most people seem frankly ecstatic with the whole idea. In fact, Bucky’s gotten more than a few glowing compliments about the idea and how much the customers enjoyed their new book. One person even wrote about it on their travel blog and while Bucky’s never been too particularly fond of influencers, he can’t complain about the new customers the post has brought in. He might have even called it a success if it hadn’t been for the other side.

The other side, of course, being the people like the mom currently standing in front of him. She had come in a few days earlier sporting the quintessential “I want to speak to the manager” haircut with a purse that looked like a knockoff of one that cost more than Bucky’s monthly rent. He’d known the moment she picked up one of the Blind Date books that she was going to be a problem, especially when she’d chosen the one that was similar to _Harry Potter_ , _The Magicians_ , and _Pennyroyal Academy_. But he hadn’t wanted to assume her haircut matched her bigotry—he’d had a lesbian professor in college with the same hairstyle—so he’d kept his mouth shut.

He’s regretting it now.

“You can’t return the book just because you didn’t like it,” Bucky says flatly. He’s been listening to the woman rant about giving the book to her son only to discover it was about “the homosexuals” for ten minutes and he’s about ready to chuck the book at her head. “The entire point is not knowing which book you picked up. That’s a risk and you knowingly chose to take it.”

“There’s a difference,” she spits, “between not liking a story and not liking the gay agenda being shoved onto your god-fearing son.”

The aforementioned son tugs on his mom’s shirt and whispers, “Mom, I _liked_ the book.”

Bucky’s heart goes out to the poor kid, especially when the mom just snaps, “See? They’ve got their insidious tentacles ensnared in my son. I’ll bet you chose that book because you’re one of them.”

“First of all,” Bucky snaps back, completely out of patience, “that metaphor doesn’t even make sense. And secondly, maybe I am. But I have better class than to push my so-called _agenda_ onto your child, who, to be frank, deserves a helluva lot better than you.”

There’s a slow clap coming from someone in the store but Bucky doesn’t dare take his eyes off the infuriated woman to see who it is. She’s breathing heavily through her nostrils, hard enough that if she were a dragon, there’d be smoke curling at the hard edges of her face.

After a moment, the woman orders, “I demand a refund.”

“I already told you no,” Bucky says promptly. “It was on the sign. No refunds for Blind Date books.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?” she snarls. “I can’t have this _filth_ in my house.”

Bucky opens his mouth to respond—probably by telling her she’s welcome to leave and not come back—when someone says sharply, “Hey!”

Both Bucky and the woman turn to face the newcomer. Bucky’s jaw drops open. The sight of the pretty young man in soft-looking leggings and an oversized hoodie that drapes down to his thighs is a little more than his poor gay brain can handle. It only gets worse when he sees the man give him an appreciative onceover and Bucky about faints on the spot. Beautiful _and_ gay? Be still, his beating heart.

The woman looks completely scandalized by the brief byplay between Bucky and the newcomer and she’s just starting to open her mouth when the man snaps his attention back to her.

“It’s not filth,” he says sharply before she can get more than a syllable into her sentence. “It’s a good story. Just because you’re too much of a bigot to appreciate other people doesn’t mean that the rest of us are too.”

The woman gapes at him before floundering to say, “You don’t even know what book it is.”

The man glances at the brown paper still covering most of the book. “ _Harry Potter, The Magicians_ , and it’s LGBT. It’s _Carry On_ , isn’t it?” The last sentence is directed at Bucky, who nods dumbly, still too struck by those big Bambi eyes to say anything. “Which means it’s not just a good story, it’s a fucking fantastic one.”

“I didn’t—”

“Yeah, we know,” the man says lazily. “You didn’t like it. But the nice man here has listened to your delusional rant for way too long and he’s not offering refunds and the rest of us have places to go and books to buy so take your book and your son and get out.”

“But—”

The man’s eyes narrow and suddenly, despite the leggings and hoodie, he looks very, _very_ dangerous. “You’re on the PTA board, aren’t you? I remember seeing you at the last meeting. Karen, right? Well, I supply the cupcakes to those meetings,” he says silkily. “And if you don’t want diarrhea for the next week, I suggest you leave.”

The woman gulps, nods, and spins on her heel, heading for the door and taking her son with her.

The man turns back to Bucky with a sheepish sort of smile. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes. “But I’m supposed to be meeting with a bride in a few minutes and her mom is one of _those_ moms. I’d like to not be late if I can avoid it.”

Something clicks in Bucky’s mind and he goes, “Oh! You must own the new bakery down the road.”

“That’s me!” the man chirps. “Tony Stark of Ana and Edwin’s Bakery.”

“Ana and Edwin’s?” Darcy asks, popping out from behind a bookshelf. Stark—dare Bucky say Tony?—startles. _Christ, even his little mew of surprise is adorable_ , Bucky thinks.

“I love that place,” Darcy continues enthusiastically. She practically vaults over one of the smaller shelves to shake Tony’s hand. “Bucky’s stuff is great but yours is way better.”

“Really?” Tony asks. He casts a shy smile Bucky’s way. “Maybe we could work out an agreement sometime?”

“Yes,” Natasha agrees, popping out of—well, Bucky’s not entirely sure where. “Do it. It will be good business for you and great for Bucky.”

“Great…business?” Bucky asks, certain that he can already read the calculating expression on Natasha’s face.

“No,” she says simply, leaving him to guess at what she means. “Now, ring up Tony’s book so he can get to his meeting.”

“Right!” Bucky exclaims. “Sorry, forgot all about that.”

Tony passes him another Blind Date book. Bucky scans it over: _If you like Fahrenheit 451, The Maze Runner, Brave New World_. He’s pretty sure this one is _Hunger Games_ but all he says is, “Fan of dystopians?”

Tony shakes his hand from side to side. “They’re not bad,” he says noncommittedly. “But I wanted to try out the whole concept and I’m definitely not a fan of any of the other books on the table.”

“I hope this one’s more to your liking,” Bucky says warmly as he finishes ringing Tony up. He passes the book back to Tony and prays that he’s not imagining it when it seems like Tony’s hand lingers on his.

* * *

There’s a tray of cupcakes on the front counter when Bucky arrives at the store the next morning. They’re beautifully decorated with creamy white frosting and tiny fondant books on each one. He looks suspiciously at Nat, who is dusting the bookshelves with an unconvincingly innocent expression on her face.

“What are these?” he asks.

“Tony brought them,” Nat replies. “Said he made too many and would we like to take a tray and oh by the way, where’s your hot boss?”

Bucky blushes. “He didn’t say that.”

“No,” Nat agrees. Then she gives him a sly smile. “But he did keep glancing around the store, looking very disappointed when he couldn’t find you.”

Bucky’s blush deepens. To keep himself from saying anything stupid (like maybe if Tony had said when he’d be back), he takes one of the cupcakes out of the tray and bites into it.

“Oh my god,” he moans. “These are amazing.”

Nat looks terribly smug. Bucky wants to snip at her about the expression on her face but she wears that expression a lot.

“Did Tony say what flavors these are?” he asks instead.

“Earl grey with a vanilla bean frosting,” she says promptly. That sly smile is back. “He must have noticed you were drinking it yesterday.” And with that, she returns to dusting the bookshelves. Bucky glares at her half-heartedly. It’s hard to be angry about anything when something this good is in his mouth.

He eats another one and then puts the rest of the tray in the display case on the counter. He’d planned on selling a set of blueberry scones today but these are much better. His nose twitches as he looks at them. He should have probably asked Tony’s permission before selling the cupcakes but he’ll just have to remember to give Tony some of the profits.

After watching the cupcakes sell out in less than an hour, he amends that thought to _most_ of the profits and then sets out the tray of blueberry scones.

* * *

There’s a day about a week later when Nat’s apartment is getting its biannual flea prevention, which means that her cat can’t be in the apartment. Bucky knows how much of a pain it can be to board a pet for a day so he offers to let her bring Liho to the bookstore despite being allergic himself. He puts up a sign in the window warning everyone about the cat so his allergic regulars aren’t faced with a reaction, downs two Claritin, and proceeds to go about his day.

Liho, like all cats, seems to gather that he’s not much of a cat person and promptly affixes himself to Bucky. He follows Bucky around while they open up the store and then curls up on the counter when Bucky parks himself on the stool next to the cash register. He rolls onto his back, butts his head into Bucky’s hand, and demands chin scratches with an upturned head. Bucky obliges him because he’s not a monster, even if cats aren’t his favorite animal.

A little over an hour later, it starts to rain, which quickly turns into a late summer storm. Bucky loves these kinds of storms. No one wants to trek out to a bookstore in the middle of a storm so Bucky’s free to curl up in one of the armchairs in the store with a cup of tea and one of the new releases, which is exactly what he does. Liho jumps up beside him, squishes himself into the space between Bucky’s leg and the side of the chair, and begins to purr. The bookshop is quiet. Darcy has the day off and Nat is back at her apartment, supervising the pest control—something about how they messed it up last time and poor Liho had fleas for a week before she realized what was wrong and picked up a flea collar.

The rain seems to be showing no signs of letting up and Bucky’s just starting to entertain the thought of closing the shop early and heading home when the bell above the door chimes. He groans inwardly, preparing to get up, but then Tony pokes his head around the nearest bookshelf.

He’s soaked through, damp curls pressed to his face, raindrops clinging to his eyelashes. Bucky wonders where his umbrella is. Tony crosses his arm across his chest, clearly trying to retain as much warmth as possible.

“Sorry to be dripping water on your floor,” he says and then sneezes. Bucky’s jaw drops. Even Tony’s sneezes are adorable like a kitten’s.

Bucky jumps to his feet, ignoring Liho’s hiss of irritation. “Doll, what’re you doing out?” he asks, heading for the front counter. He’s pretty sure there’s a towel under the cash register. Darcy has a bad habit of heading out without an umbrella and the terrible luck to get caught in the rain so there’s usually a towel up at the front for her.

Tony holds up the tray in his hands sheepishly. He says, “Wanted to bring you another batch of cupcakes. It wasn’t raining as bad when I left so I thought if I ran, I’d be fine but then a car drove through a puddle and splashed me.”

Bucky growls. He hates it when cars do that, especially because, for the most part, they have to deliberately drive through a puddle to splash someone. He trades the towel for Tony’s cupcakes and sets them on the counter.

“Speaking of cupcakes,” he says, rummaging around in the cash drawer for the envelope he’d stashed in there. “Here’s what I owe you for the last batch.”

Tony hums questioningly, toweling off his hair. “You…didn’t have to do that? They were for you.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says with a shrug. “But I can’t eat twenty-four cupcakes in a day, however much I might like to so I thought the customers might like them too.”

“Oh,” Tony says softly. “They do freeze, you know.”

Bucky had not known that and Tony seems a little hurt that Bucky had sold the last batch so he says, “Guess I’ll have one right now and then freeze the rest then. More for me and Nat doesn’t get any. Win-win.”

Tony’s smile is bright and beautiful. Bucky’s heart skips several beats. “You wanna come upstairs?” he offers before he can think better of it. Tony frowns confusedly. “For clothes! Not for—anything else,” he finishes awkwardly.

Tony giggles. “I didn’t think you meant for anything else,” he assures him. “It’s a little fast, even for me. I was wondering more about the upstairs part.”

Bucky grins and walks over to the front door to flip the sign to closed. “I live above the store,” he explains. Tony’s smile grows wider.

“Well, you’re just a walking, talking cliché, aren’t you, Bucky Bear?” he teases.

Bucky just shrugs and leads the way upstairs. “I doubt I’ve got anything in your size,” he says apologetically and then eyes Tony’s oversized sweater. “But you don’t seem to mind that much.”

“I don’t,” Tony says cheerfully. Liho has apparently found Tony and is now purring contentedly in his arms as they walk. “My parents were kinda rich so I grew up in either suits or designer clothes. It’s nice wearing what I want to now.”

“Guessing it wasn’t them who taught you to bake then,” Bucky says.

Tony shakes his head and says, “No, that would be the butler and his wife.”

“Ana and Edwin,” Bucky says, thinking about the name of the bakery.

Tony looks delighted at Bucky’s words. “Yeah but I called him Jarvis. I just didn’t want to name the store after his last name, not after all he did to raise me.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that casual admission that Tony’s parents hadn’t had much to do with him. He had grown up in a loving family, both parents still happily married thirty years after their wedding, two younger sisters, and a large extended family that used to host family dinners every Sunday with a bigger reunion at Christmas. Then, of course, there’d been Stevie and his ma, who hadn’t had much other than their love for each other but had accepted Bucky into their home every single time an angsty teenage Bucky had wanted to get away from his family. He’d grown up happy.

“He must have loved you very much,” he manages eventually. They’re standing in front of the door to his apartment now so he pulls out the keys to wrestle with the door, stubborn and difficult to open after so many New York winters.

“He does,” Tony agrees. He shifts Liho to one hand so he can help shove the door open. “When I told my parents I wasn’t going to take over the business, Jarvis is the one who gave me the money for the bakery and then he quit his job so he could come out here if I needed help.”

“He seems like a great guy,” Bucky says honestly. He leaves Tony in the living room so he can run to the bedroom and grab the clothes. He’s got an old sweatshirt from college that he’s pretty sure won’t absolutely dwarf Tony and maybe a decent pair of sweatpants. He sticks his head out of the bedroom to eye Tony again. Christ, but Tony’s tiny. He’s at least a good six inches shorter than Bucky and far slenderer. Bucky can’t help but imagine how perfectly Tony would fit in his arms, tucked up against his chest, resting his head under Bucky’s chin…

But Bucky’s pretty sure that way lies madness.

He finishes grabbing the clothes and heads back out to the living room. The rain is still lashing against the windows, not letting up at all. Bucky’s pretty sure it’s actually gotten worse. Tony is sitting at one of the barstools in the kitchen on Bucky’s laptop, checking the weather report.

“You can stay here until the storm lessens up,” Bucky offers.

Tony throws him a glowing, grateful smile. “You wouldn’t mind?” he asks. “I locked up the bakery before I left but I don’t want to intrude.”

“Intrude all you like,” Bucky says, passing him the clothes.

Tony marches into the bathroom. “In that case,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m going to run back downstairs and grab one of the new Blind Date books.”

Bucky heads to the kitchen to start boiling a new pot of tea. He grabs the earl grey tin—in his opinion, that’s the best tea for rainy days—scoops a handful of leaves into the teapot, and sets it on the stove to heat up. At some point, he hears Tony leave the bathroom and head back downstairs but he’s too busy plating a couple cupcakes and setting the rest in the freezer to turn around and look. The tea’s just finishing steeping by the time Tony comes up the stairs again so by the time Bucky walks into the living room with two steaming cups of tea and a plate of cupcakes, Tony’s already curled up in the armchair by the window.

He stops dead in his tracks at the sight of Tony in Bucky’s clothes. He’s quickly coming to the realization that Tony looks perfect in just about everything he wears and it’s not like Bucky’s size is any different than what Tony usually wears but there’s just something _special_ about seeing him in Bucky’s clothes. Something warm and cozy uncurls in Bucky’s chest and his breath hitches.

Tony looks up from the book he’d grabbed from downstairs and smiles. “One of those for me?” he asks, nodding at the tea.

Bucky unfreezes his limbs and continues forward. “I wasn’t sure if you like coffee or tea but the only coffee I’ve got is instant.”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “That’s not coffee. That’s a lie.” Bucky laughs and Tony continues, “Tea’s fine. I like coffee more but my cardiologist says it’s not good for my heart.” He takes one of the proffered mugs and sets it on the side table.

“Funny, mine said the same thing,” Bucky says drily.

“Must be a doctor thing.”

“Must be.” He gestures at the book in Tony’s hand. “Which one did you end up choosing?”

“ _Six of Crows_.”

“Choose if you like young adult, found family, _Ocean’s Eleven_ , and _Heist Society_ ,” Bucky recites from memory. “So you don’t like dystopians but you _do_ like heists?”

“Especially if they’ve got a found family element,” Tony says.

Bucky thinks about how Tony had alluded to being raised by his butler and thinks about how lonely his childhood must have been. Yeah, he can see Tony enjoying the found family trope.

“What about you?” Tony asks, eyeing the book on the coffee table. “What are you reading?”

“ _A Christmas Carol_.”

Tony’s brow furrows (adorably in Bucky’s opinion). “Kind of early for that, isn’t it, Bucky Boo?”

Bucky tries very hard not to blush at Tony’s nickname and absolutely fails but, by the way Tony’s face lights up, he can’t find it in himself to be disappointed. “We read Christmas books to some of the kids during the holiday season. It’s my turn this year and I haven’t read _Christmas Carol_ since I was a kid myself so I’m rereading it early,” he explains.

Tony’s smile is soft and fond. “That’s sweet.”

They fall into an easy, companionable sort of silence, the sort that doesn’t fall heavy over the room but just sits warm and comforting like a blanket. Tony seems to be a pretty fast reader. Bucky usually is too but Dickens was paid by the word so it takes a little longer to get through his works. Tony doesn’t eat either of the cupcakes though Bucky does but he supposes that makes sense that Tony doesn’t eat his own creations, considering how trim his waist is.

He lets his mind wander after a bit. Dickens’ works are good but they can get a little boring after a while and the rain on the window lulls him into a daze. As they have so often over the last few days, his thoughts turn toward Tony. Tony is objectively gorgeous but that alone wouldn’t cause such a fascination. There’s an attraction there. Tony likes to read and he’s open minded toward the things he doesn’t normally like. He’s clearly very sweet or else he would’ve named his shop something different. He hits every single one of Bucky’s buttons without even trying and on top of it all, he’s clearly been eyeing Bucky up if Nat’s sly comments are anything to go off of.

He’s thinking about opening his mouth, maybe asking Tony for a date to see if they like each other, when Tony closes his book and glances toward the window.

“Looks like the rain’s stopped,” Tony comments idly. “I’ll get out of your hair then.”

Bucky wants to protest but Tony is already standing, bundling the book under his arm, and walking toward the door. He follows, opening the door for Tony and ushering him down the stairs, still trying to think of a way to get Tony to stay.

“I left the money for the book on the counter,” Tony calls as he steps out onto the sidewalk. “Hope that was okay. I’ll see you tomorrow maybe?”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky says with a relieved smile. Tomorrow. Tony will be back tomorrow. Tony’s coming _back_.

He heads back upstairs, still a little sad that Tony had felt the need to leave but buoyed by the fact that Tony didn’t think that he was unwelcome. Liho is on top of the counter when he walks through the door, batting at a somewhat crumpled pile of the same brown paper he uses to wrap the Blind Date books.

There are a few sentences written on it—the list of similar things that Bucky had provided but also a few scratched-out thoughts in penmanship that certainly isn’t in Bucky’s handwriting. Since that paper wasn’t there before Tony had gotten there, he’s willing to bet that Tony had left it. Judging by the crossed-out sentences, he’s also pretty sure that the paper had been in the trash but Liho has a habit of getting into the trash for crinkly paper (she’s particularly fond of eating receipts) so he’s not surprised it’s on the counter now.

_~~Do you want to~~ _

_~~Do you like~~ _

_~~Maybe tomorrow if I come by~~ _

And then a single sentence not crossed out: _Blind Date with a Book is great but what about a date with the bookseller?_

Bucky stares at it for a moment and then bolts back downstairs. He dashes out the front door, letting it bang shut behind him. Tony’s only a few doors down, not yet at his bakery, so he yells, “Tony, wait!”

Tony stops and turns back around, watching him curiously as he runs to catch up. “What’s cooking, good looking?” he asks, clearly confused, which cements it in Bucky’s mind that Tony hadn’t meant to leave the paper out.

Of course, it could just mean that Tony isn’t really interested in him but Bucky doesn’t think that’s the case. He’s seen how Tony looks at him and it’s the same way he looks at Tony. Sure they’ve only known each other for a few days but that’s what dating is all about right?

“Yes,” he blurts out.

“Yes?”

“Paper—” he says, his brain only working in fragments because _of course_ it does. “Counter—Liho—”

There’s a dawning light of understanding in Tony’s eyes. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he mumbles. “It’s embarrassing.”

“But you were going to ask me, right?” Bucky checks. “You weren’t planning on asking Nat or Darcy?”

Tony looks horrified at the very thought. “Nat’s scary!” he exclaims.

Bucky chuckles and then reaches out to take Tony’s hand. He experiences a brief moment of panic that that might be too forward but it seems okay judging by Tony’s blush. He pulls Tony in a little closer and leans down to tip his forehead against Tony’s. This close, Tony smells like the rain he’d gotten caught in and a little like bread from long hours at the bakery. It’s nice; Bucky likes it.

“Go out with me?” he murmurs.

Tony shivers. “That was smooth,” he replies. “A lot smoother than mine.”

“I liked yours,” Bucky replies honestly. “It had heart. A lot more than mine.” He nudges his nose alongside Tony’s.

“Yes,” Tony breathes. He pulls away and presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky promises. He lets Tony go reluctantly and watches as the baker walks away with a slight sashay in his step, unable to stop from grinning broadly. At the corner, Tony looks back and blows him a kiss. Bucky catches it and presses it to his lips, laughing out loud when Tony blushes again. A moment later, Tony’s gone and Bucky turns back to go back to the bookshop. There’s a pep in his step and a smile on his face.

Nat is waiting right in front of the bookshop, a smug smile on her face. “It worked out, huh?” she asks in that way that tells Bucky she already knows the answer. Without waiting for him to say anything she continues, “Guess Blind Date with a Book wasn’t such a bad idea.”

“Fine,” Bucky agrees grudgingly. “Maybe—just maybe—it was a tiny—practically _miniscule_ —bit good.”

Nat gives him that annoying smile again and saunters inside. Bucky casts one last look down the street, even though Tony is long gone, and then follows her inside.


End file.
